


At Welford Manor

by dannihowell (iguessicantry)



Category: Jane Eyre - Charlotte Brontë, Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett
Genre: F/F, Gender or Sex Swap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-27 14:48:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7622854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iguessicantry/pseuds/dannihowell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My name is Philippa Lester and I was plain, ugly and alone in the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Welford Manor

One morning, I was told that my parents had died. I did not cry. I didn’t think I ever would. I was not allowed to cry as a little girl and then my face remained austere and without childishness despite my being only fifteen years old. My ayah said I was plain and ugly. She was the woman who cared for me. She was a native of India, where I was born. My name is Philippa Lester and I was plain, ugly and alone in the world.

—

The passage on the boat was long and the other children who had lost their parents in the earthquake loved to taunt me. They had made fun of the way I stared at them and glared out at the sea. They think me stupid and uninteresting. I shall not prove them wrong. They mean nothing and never will. I hate them for finding the joy in my ill-education. I was not taught to play or scream and carry on like they were. I hate them.

On the last night of the journey, I dreamed of my mother. Her arms were stretched out to me and she was laughing. It was not her mocking laughter I had always known. It was warm, welcoming, and motherly. These were not the traits affiliated with such a woman. She was frivolous and spoiled. But she was also beautiful, like the princesses in the fairytales she had never read to me. As I reached out to her, she pulled away and ran. No matter how fast I tried to move my feet, I could not find her again. She was gone forever. When I woke, I felt tears on my pillow.

—

“Philippa Lester, come forward.” A woman, Mrs. Linley, called my name as she went down the roster. The other fifty children from the journey stood among our baggage with long faces. We were tired and longed for a home and fresh linens.

“Is this her?” a fine lady said. She wore a deep purple cloak with a matching hat on her head.

“Yes, her luggage should be marked with the number ten. Her documents are all here, Mrs. Hadley.”

Mrs. Hadley nodded as her few servants searched for my trunk. I watched her as she looked me over, a smile never crossing her face. She was not an old woman but she certainly was not a merry one.

“Good morning, Philippa,” she greeted.

I said nothing nor did I curtsey as I should have for a lady of her standing and age.

“Dreadful little thing, isn’t she. So miserable and plain.”

“Ay… Perhaps once she’s settled in at Welford Manor, her beauty will find a place. She is young yet,” Mrs. Linley said, defending my little honor.

“Perhaps you are right,” Mrs. Hadley sighed. I saw the servants bow behind her, telling her that they were ready when she was. Mrs. Hadley placed her hand on my shoulder, pushing me along swiftly. “Thank you again.”

Another long journey followed, first by train, then by carriage. It was two days before we approached the manor. On the moors, I swear I heard it call me. The wind and the cold moved through the green high grasses, leaving the countryside wayward in movement. I had grown in a desert, never seeing such things in all my years. The country fascinated me for all of an hour until the carriage stopped.

Mrs. Hadley moved quickly into the house. Her mouth threw out orders while her hands moved to remove her cold-weather clothing. We climbed the grand staircase which led to even grander halls. It was late, the moon full facing and every lamp filled with oil lighted. I dawdled behind her, wanting to study my new home as it was. There were paintings of nature and people, most likely people related to my mother and uncle. I would ask later if I remembered to find interest in these evil looking people. There was a long whining wail, a smash of glass and then the fluttering of fabric like skirts moving up steps.

“Mrs. Hadley, we have a problem!” a servant girl informed her, wearing a white face mask.

“Lucy, take her to her room! And you,” Mrs. Hadley pointed to me. “You are not to leave your suite. Am I understood?”

I nodded and before I knew she was gone, racing down the stairs. Lucy smiled nicely, in a way I could not help but trust, and took my hand. She led me down a long hallway and into another small passage. With the twist of a doorknob, she pushed in a large grand door. The lamp inside was already lit and I could see a bed, wardrobe, and wall of windows. The room was far from sparse but not cheerful. It would do, I immediately supposed.

“This is your room, miss. I shall be here if you need me.”

“So you are my servant?”

“I am Mrs. Hadley’s servant,” Lucy giggled. “She’s the one who gave me the work. Me mum has nine more of us home and was mighty thankful to Mrs. Hadley when she said I could have work at the grand manor.”

“Nine brothers and sisters?” I asked. I had none. My mother did not think it a good idea to have children in the first place. She told me so herself.

“Ay, miss. You shall meet some of me sisters. Sally, the oldest and loudest, is cook’s servant. She stays in the kitchen of course. Georgina, she has the darkest hair, like ebony, is the downstairs maid. Danielle, is the brightest and she will be your servant. She’s visiting me mum right now and will return in the morning.”

I rolled my eyes at her. “You talk far too much about nothing at all,” I said. She only laughed again.

“Ay. You are right. I shall leave you to rest, Miss. See you in the morning,” Lucy cheerfully walking to the door. With a curtsey and a smile, she left me stood alone in this strange room, in this strange house, in this strange land so far from my home.

—

I woke to find a girl standing by my bedside. Her dress was black, her apron white, and her headwear falling off her crown slightly.

“Who are you?” I muttered with a scowl. I never liked my ayah to wake me. Servants were never to tell me what to do.

“Danielle, Miss,” she curtsied politely. “I am here to see to you.” Her accent was funny like her sister’s. It sounded as if they were singing all the time.

“Good. Then you’ll dress me.”

“Dress you, Miss?”

“Yes. My servants always dressed me and you will too.”

“You can’t dress yourself?” she asked giggling.

“Stop that this instant. I won’t have a servant laughing at me.”

“I wasn’t laughing at you, Miss Philippa. I was laughing at the situation. You see, I’ve always wanted a dress-up doll. You know, something small and pretty to dress in pretty things. Me mum had too many of us and we never got many toys as children.”

“I am not a doll nor am I pretty.”

“Ay but all girls are pretty. Me mum always said so. She’s no liar.”

“If your mother saw me, she’d stop saying that.”

Danielle giggled again and strangely the sound did not bother me as it had earlier. She was pretty as her mother had said. She made me feel inferior and I did not like that one bit.

“Dress me.”

“Raise your arms, Miss.”

She searched through the collection of dresses she had undoubtedly packed from my trunk. Every last dress was black because of my mourning period. I had never cared for fashion like my mother had so black made no fuss for me.

The fabric fell over me and soon her hands were pulling it into shape around me. She hummed a song as she went along, smiling when her she came to my front. She pulled on the corset to tighten it and she let her fingers cross my ribs, prompting me to laugh.

“Stop!” I told her.

“What a pretty face you have when you laugh, Miss. I shall tickle you more.”

“Stop!” I laughed even harder. I tried to move away feeling my power over her falling away. I fell to the ground and crawled away, escaping Danielle’s fingers. “Do not tickle me! I am your mistress and you will do as I say!”

“Yes, Miss,” Danielle curtsied. “Sorry, Miss. I will call the kitchen maid to bring your breakfast now.”

“Good.”

—

Welford was strange and so were the noises it made at night. The uncle who had saved me from a life of poverty never requested my presence or made his known. As much as I hate to admit it, my first months at Welford were quite pleasant. I hardly ever found myself without halls to explore and thusly thrown out of and Danielle proved herself to be a worthy friend. She was just as bright as her sister, Lucy, had promised and we spent days wondering the libraries and the gardens. She was like my lady in waiting, at my disposal, always by my side.

“Mrs. Hadley says you are fifteen,” she says one day on the steps of the rose garden. I was walking a bit ahead of her when I turned around.

“Yes and so?”

“I had thought you older, Miss.”

“Well, how old are you? Sixteen?”

“Yes,” Danielle smiled. “You’re still a little girl.”

“I am not!”

“Yes, you are,” the servant girl giggled and skipped in front of me towards the swing.

“I see blood like you do.”

“That does not make you a woman,” Danielle informed me mockingly.

“So being sixteen makes you more of a woman than me?” I asked, feeling confused.

“No, being kissed does.”

“Kissed? Were you kissed? By whom?”

“Do you know the baker in town? Mr. Thomas?”

“Yes,” I say. “I do.”

“His son, Ethan, says he’s in love with me.”

“Oh…”

My chest had stopped moving, I was no longer breathing. The thought of Danielle, who had every right, falling in love and leaving was more than I could take.

“Miss, are you alright?”

“Yes,” I snapped. “I am alright. What were you saying?”

“I was telling you that Ethan kissed me, Miss. The last time I went to visit my mum. He delivered a bit of bread because she was ill. I walked him to the edge of our land and he just kissed me. He’s going to be a baker like his father. His children will never want for food.”

“Children?”

She looked at me with concern and she must have seen the tears in my eyes.

“Oh, Miss. Why are you crying? Have I said something wrong? Oh, please Miss.”

“Don’t leave me,” I said, knowing I was begging to a servant. At that point, my status was of no importance. “You’re the only friend I’ve ever had.”

“I’m not leaving you, Miss.”

“Yes you are! You’re going to marry that baker boy and have lots of baker’s children and I’ll be here all alone.”

“Miss, I am only sixteen. Surely, you do not think I will marry so quickly, especially after one kiss.”

“You won’t?” I asked, wiping the tears from my cheeks.

“No,” she sighed with her beautiful smile. “I will not marry the baker’s son just because he kissed me. I only wanted to tell you about it because I tell you everything. You’re my best friend, Phil.” She moved my ringlets from my face to wipe away at my last falling tears.

“I am sorry for becoming angry with you,” I mumbled, not finding pride in my thoughts or my actions.

“Shall we go inside for the midday meal?”

I nodded so she took my hand and led me back to Welford.

—

Christmastime was as stark as the English countryside. There were no decorations or gifts but the servants sang happy songs. Danielle taught me more than a few. In India, my Christmases had always been hot. I ate not goose or duck but spicy dishes of the natives. At Welford, I was for the first time an Englishwoman. I covered up in scarves and gloves. I saw snow for the first time. It had been glorious and I could not hide my smile no matter how hard I tried.

January brought about my sixteenth birthday. My uncle had ordered a new dress and, at last, a tutor who would try to teach me French and elocution. A girl my age, Mrs. Hadley said, was now a lady of society, able to attend parties and even marry with adequate permission. According to her, I would have suitors lining up at the steps of the manor. Though, this was due to my fortune and not my company or beauty.

Danielle said Mrs. Hadley’s a tired old hag.

—–

“Mademoiselle, again,” Madame told me. I recited the verb conjugations once more, feigning alertness. The lessons were boring, at best. I thought I would die. I could see Danielle falling asleep in the corner which made me giggle.

“That is enough for today, Philippa. Please practice on your own,” the woman assigned in a heavy French accent. She stood, grabbing her cloak and gloves. Danielle led the woman out of the conservatory where we held lessons. She soon returned quietly and went about returning books to their shelves.

“Being sixteen is awful. I hate lessons. I never had them in India.”

“Really? How did you learn?”

“My ayah simply taught me. It never felt like lessons.”

“Was she your governess?”

“I suppose you could call her that,” I shrugged.

“What was her name?”

I thought for a moment. No one ever called her by her name; not mother or father. They called her ayah, her job. “I don’t know. We didn’t care much for knowing the servants personally.”

“Oh…”

Her face had changed to one of sadness. “Danielle?”

“Yes, Miss?”

“Miss? Call me Phil, like you always do.”

“Yes, Phil.”

“Whatever is the matter?”

“I’m a bit jealous… Alright, very jealous. You’re becoming a great lady, Phil. You’ll attend balls and travel and I shall be stuck here with the baker’s son… You’ll probably marry a prince or a duke.”

“I am no great lady, nor will I ever be one. I’ll never learn French. I would rather garden without gloves and paint with my fingers than read poetry or play the piano. I’m not very pretty and probably won’t marry.”

“Phil, you are one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever seen.” Danielle sat me down by the window and took my hands in her own. “Look at all this,” she said, staring out the window. “It will all be yours. The master of Welford hasn’t any children and does not wish to marry. You are his only heir as the only living relative. Don’t you understand? You are the lady of the house and I am your lowly maid.”

“You are the only friend I have ever had, Danielle.” I shook my head to dispel her of any belief that I would forsake her due to status.

“If this isn’t too forward,” she said leaning in closer. “I love you, Phil.”

Her lips were so close to mine as I said, “I love you too.”

The warmth of her mouth closing in on mine surprised me but I did not move or shy away. I embrace it fully, moving with her. It was so sweet and so chaste that at the time I found no wrong in the way we loved each other. As we pulled away I found her brown eyes staring into mine deeply. She smiled then laughed loudly, bringing me into the fit with her. Danielle never failed to make me smile. I had never loved anyone before I loved her.

—

That spring, my uncle finally requested me to meet him in the library. He had just returned from Spain and ordered Mrs. Hadley to bring me immediately.

“Come in,” I heard as I stepped into the dark room. I heard the growl of a wild beast and jumped back fearing for my life.

“They will not bite,” the voice came again.

The black and brown dogs did not move but they did display their teeth, which shined in the darkness. I approaching the only light source in the room to find a man much older than myself; my uncle, Master Benedict Reid of Welford.

“You look like your mother,” he said in a hushed voice and then I saw him smile.

“My mother was beautiful, Uncle. How could you say I look like her?”

“That indeed she was. And you have her eyes. That blue only she could make appear warm. What do you call yourself? I know your Christian name but what shall I call you?”

“Phil, Uncle.”

“Phil… Do you know you were named after your maternal grandmother?”

I shook my head in negative.

“My mother, Philippa Augusta Esther Reid, was the lady of Welford. It would do her soul good to know her grandchild lived here once more.”

“Yes, Uncle.” I remained in my place, fearing the dogs and my uncle.

“Child, do I frighten you?”

Truth be told he did. This man was mysterious and although he spoke with such kindness that no stranger had ever afforded me, I still found myself inching away.

“Yes, Uncle.”

“That is understandable. There are many stories among the servants about my hunchback, my dogs…”

“The ghost in the house,” I said without thinking.

“Ghost?”

“Yes,” I whimpered carefully. “In the night, strange noises fill Welford. It sounds as if someone is crying.”

“Ah, yes. Welford is an old house and like many old houses, it has old noises. Pay it no mind, my dear.”

The smile on his face did not fill me with peace. I could tell he was lying but who was I to demand the truth.

“How are lessons going?”

“They are awful, if I may say so.”

“Awful?” His eyebrow quirked and then he smiled again. “Then we shall have no more of that. It was all Mrs. Hadley’s idea anyway. I do not know what young ladies need. By the time your mother was your age, I was off seeking my own fortune. Speaking of which, I have received a few requests to allow you to receive suitors. Would you be interested hosting a tea?”

“If I may be honest, Uncle, these men only wish to marry into my and _your_ fortune. I do not wish to receive suitors if that pleases you.”

“You are just like your mother, clever and honest. We shall speak no more of this. And Phil?”

“Yes?”

“Please do not fear me or this house. You are my only heir and Welford is yours.”

“Yes, uncle.”

“You may go.”

“Yes, sir.”

—

My days at Welford were certainly my happiest. Spending day after day in complete freedom was more than a woman could ask for. Before I knew it I was eighteen and summer was here again. Summers in northern England could never compare to those I had spent in India. They were so much cooler and I could actually breathe.

Danielle packed picnics for lunch and we ate them on the banks of the pond nearby. I let my ebony hair go loose from the normal fashion. I never wore a bonnet and at any moment I would shuck the boots from my feet. I was free and I could laugh louder than I ever had before.

“You’re too much, Phil.”

“Why? Am I not be happy?”

“You should be happy. I should think you would be happy without me.”

I fell to the blanket, feeling the softest grass give away beneath me. “Oh, I could never be happy without you, darling.”

Danielle pouted in the way that she often does so I kissed her once, twice then three times. Soon our arms were wrapped around each other’s bodies. We were gasping and kissing, lifting up skirts and undoing laces.

I loved her hard that afternoon, out there in nature, hearts full and without sin.

—

One night I heard banging on my bedroom door.

“Get up, Miss! Get up! There’s a fire!”

I flew out of bed and into the hall. The upstairs maid, Emilia, dragged me through the dark halls. I could smell the smoke but I saw no sign of a fire. Once outside, I could that the East wing was ablaze.

“Where is my Uncle? Where is the master?” I asked in panic.

“Miss, that’s his wing. No one can enter without fear of getting burned.”

“Not again,” I cried, not wanting to lose anyone else from my life. I felt overwhelmed and soon enough I was on the ground. Danielle ran to my side, having just come up from the servants’ quarters on the lowest level of the house.

“It will be okay, Miss.”

I heard nothing but the flames that were destroying my only home and the last of my family. I looked up and saw Danielle’s eyes, not having realized she was holding me in her embrace.

—

“He left everything to you.”

“Of course he did,” Mrs. Hadley interrupted.

The solicitor cleared his throat before continuing. “Mr. and Mrs. Reid owned several properties all over the world. You have amassed quite a holding, Miss Lester. You now own land in India, Jamaica, and Barbados.”

“Mrs. Reid?” I asked, confused. I always understood that my uncle was unmarried.

“Yes, Mrs. Margaret Billings Reid. She died in the fire as well from what I make out. Mr. Reid always told me she was ill. What an awful way to go. Your aunt and uncle will surely be missed.”

“Yes.” I stared ahead unknowingly, surprised by the knowledge of my aunt. The solicitor made his exit and I saw in the drawing room waiting. Mrs. Hadley avoided me when she reentered the room but I could not let her go without explanation.

“My uncle was married?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“May I ask to whom?”

“Your uncle kept it a secret for reasons that will soon be obvious.”

“Make them obvious, Mrs. Hadley.”

She took a deep breath and sat down next me on the chaise. “Shall I start at the beginning?”

“Yes.”

“Very well. Your uncle was one of three children. Your mother was the only girl child to come from the union. Your oldest uncle, a man named Charleston, inherited Welford when your grandfather died. So, your uncle Benedict had to go out into the world and find fortune. For many in his position, this meant marrying a girl with a worthy dowry. Master Reid found his in Spanish Town, Jamaica. There was a girl by the name of Margareta Billings, whose father left her handsome dowry after emancipation.

“Master Reid married her and they were in love for the first few years. He brought her back to England to be the Mistress of Welford. Not shortly afterward, she seemed to lose her mind. She became violent. There was no talking to her. Master was heartbroken by her sudden hatred towards him. He had her locked up and he stayed away as much as he could.”

“She was the ghost of Welford.”

“Yes, child,” Mrs. Hadley nodded. “Now, she is no more. It was she who set the fire that night. I know. I saw her before she poured the lamp oil on herself and set her nightdress ablaze.”

“Oh my.”

“Yes well those tortured souls shall rest in peace now, shan’t they?”

“Yes, they will.”

“Now, you, my girl, are the Mistress of Welford. What shall you do? You have the world at your feet.”

I looked at her then looked to Danielle who had been by my side all this time, as she always would be. I quite honestly believed that she would be that sole thing to survive. I knew love now. I knew what it was to grieve, to miss people whom you loved. I knew finally what it was to cry, laugh, kiss and understand.

“I shall live as best I can.”

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr  
> [dannihowell](https://danni-howell.tumblr.com/)


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